Or in your opinion so, why should you borrow
Addition for me?

Mat. Why? I should be censured

Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel,
Above all price, if I forbear to give it
The best of ornaments. Therefore, Sophia,
In few words know my pleasure, and obey me;
As you have ever done. To your discretion
I leave the government of my family,

And our poor fortunes, and from these command
Obedience to you as to myself:

To the utmost of what's mine, live plentifully:
And, ere the remnant of our store be spent,
With my good sword I hope I shall reap for you
A harvest in such full abundance, as

Shall make a merry winter.

Soph. Since you are not

To be diverted, sir, from what you purpose,
All arguments to stay you here are useless.

you

Go when you please, sir. Eyes, I charge you, waste not
One drop of sorrow; look
hoard all up,
Till in my widow'd bed I call upon you:
But then be sure you fail not. You blest angels,
Guardians of human life, I at this instant
Forbear to invoke you at our parting; 'twere
To personate devotion. My soul

you;

Shall go along with you; and when you are
Circled with death and horror, seek and find
And then I will not leave a saint unsued to
For your protection. To tell you what
I will do in your absence, would show poorly;
My actions shall speak me. 'Twere to doubt you,
To beg I may hear from you where you are;
You cannot live obscure: nor shall one post,
By night or day, pass unexamined by me.
If I dwell long upon your lips, consider
After this feast the griping fast that follows;
And it will be excusable; pray, turn from me;
All that I can is spoken.

[The good sense, rational fondness, and chastised feeling, of this dialogue, make it more valuable than many of those scenes in which this writer has attempted a deeper passion and more tragical interest. Mas

singer had not the higher requisites of his art in any thing like the degree in which they were possessed by Ford, Webster, Tourneur, Heywood, and others. He never shakes or disturbs the mind with grief. He is read with composure and placid delight. He wrote with that equability of all the passions, which made his English style the purest and most free from violent metaphors and harsh constructions, of any of the dramatists who were his contemporaries.]

THE PARLIAMENT OF LOVE: A COMEDY,
BY PHILIP MASSINGER.

CLEREMOND takes an oath to perform his mistress LEONORA's pleasure. She enjoins him to kill his best friend. He invites MONTROSE to the field, under pretence of wanting him for a second: then shows, that he must fight with him.

Cler. This is the place.

Mont. An even piece of ground,

Without advantage; but be jocund, friend:
The honour to have enter'd first the field,
However we come off, is ours.

Cler. I need not,

So well I am acquainted with your valour,
To dare, in a good cause, as much as man,
Lend

you encouragement; and should I add,
Your power to do, which Fortune, howe'er blind,
Hath ever seconded, I cannot doubt

But victory still sits upon your sword,

And must not now forsake you.

Mont. You shall see me

Come boldly up: nor will I shame your cause,
By parting with an inch of ground not bought
With blood on my part.

Cler. 'Tis not to be question'd:

That which I would entreat, (and pray you grant it,)
Is, that you would forget your usual softness,
Your foe being at your mercy; it hath been
A custom in you, which I dare not praise,
Having disarm'd your enemy of his sword,
To tempt your fate, by yielding it again;
Then run a second hazard.

Mont. When we encounter

A noble foe, we cannot be too noble.

Cler. That I confess; but he that 's now to oppose you,
I know for an arch villain; one that hath lost
All feeling of humanity, one that hates
Goodness in others, 'cause he 's ill himself;

A most ungrateful wretch, (the name 's too gentle,
All attributes of wickedness cannot reach him,)
Of whom to have deserved, beyond example,
Or precedent of friendship, is a wrong
Which only death can satisfy.

Mont. You describe

A monster to me.

Cler. True, Montrose, he is so.

Afric, though fertile of strange prodigies,
Never produced his equal; be wise, therefore,
And if he fall into your hands, despatch him:
Pity to him is cruelty. The sad father,

That sees his son stung by a snake to death,
May, with more justice, stay his vengeful hand,
And let the worm escape, than you vouchsafe him
A minute to repent: for 'tis a slave

So sold to hell and mischief, that a traitor
To his most lawful prince, a church-robber,

A parricide, who, when his garners are

Cramm'd with the purest grain, suffers his parents,
Being old and weak, to starve for want of bread,
Compared to him are innocent.

Mont. I ne'er heard

Of such a cursed nature; if long-lived,

He would infect mankind: rest you assured,
He finds from me small courtesy.

Cler. And expect

As little from him; blood is that he thirsts for,

Not honourable wounds.

Mont. I would I had him

Within my sword's length!

Cler. Have thy wish! Thou hast!

[CLEREMOND draws his [sword.

Nay, draw thy sword and suddenly: I am
That monster, temple-robber, parricide,
Ingrateful wretch, friend-hater, or what else
Makes up the perfect figure of the devil,
Should he appear like man. Banish amazement,
And call thy ablest spirits up to guard thee

From him that's turn'd a fury. I am made
Her minister, whose cruelty but named

Would with more horror strike the pale-cheek'd stars,
Than all those dreadful words which conjurors use
To fright their damn'd familiars.

Look not on me

As I am Cleremond; I have parted with
The essence that was his, and entertain'd
The soul of some fierce tigress, or a wolf's
New-hang'd for human slaughter, and 'tis fit:
I could not else be an apt instrument
To bloody Leonora.

Mont. To my knowledge
I never wrong'd her.

Cler. Yes in being a friend

To me, she hated my best friend, her malice
Would look no lower :-and for being such,
By her commands, Montrose, I am to kill thee.
O, that thou hadst, like others, been all words,
And no performance! or that thou hadst made
Some little stop in thy career of kindness!
Why wouldst thou, to confirm the name of friend,
Snatch at this fatal office of a second,

Which others fled from ?- 'Tis in vain to mourn now,
When there's no help; and therefore, good Montrose,
Rouse thy most manly parts, and think thou stand'st now
A champion for more than king or country;
Since in thy fall, goodness itself must suffer.
Remember too, the baseness of the wrong
Offer'd to friendship; let it edge thy sword,
And kill compassion in thee; and forget not
I will take all advantages: and so,

Without reply, have at thee. [They fight, CLEREMOND Mont. See, how weak

An ill cause is! you are already fallen:

What can you

look for now?

Cler. Fool, use thy fortune:

And so he counsels thee, that, if we had

falls.

Changed places, instantly would have cut thy throat,
Or digg'd thy heart out.

Mont. In requital of

That savage purpose, I must pity you:

Witness these tears, not tears of joy for conquest;

But of true sorrow for your misery.
Live, O live, Cleremond, and, like a man,
Make use of reason, as an exorcist

To cast this devil out, that does abuse you;
This fiend of false affection.

A VERY WOMAN: OR, THE PRINCE OF TARENT: A TRAGI-COMEDY. BY PHILIP MASSINGER.

DON JOHN ANTONIO, Prince of Tarent, in the disguise of a slave, recounts to the LADY ALMIRA, she not knowing him in that disguise, the story of his own passion for her, and of the unworthy treatment which he found from her.

John. Not far from where my father lives, a lady,

A neighbour by, blest with as great a beauty
As Nature durst bestow without undoing,
Dwelt, and most happily, as I thought then,

And bless'd the house a thousand times she dwelt in.
This beauty, in the blossom of my youth,
When my first fire knew no adulterate incense,
Nor I no way to flatter but my fondness,
In all the bravery my friends could show me,
In all the faith my innocence could give me,

In the best language my true tongue could tell me,
And all the broken sighs my sick heart lent me,
I sued, and served. Long did I love this lady,
Long was my travail, long my trade, to win her;
With all the duty of my soul I served her.

Alm. How feelingly he speaks! And she loved you too?
It must be so.

John. I would it had, dear lady.

This story had been needless; and this place,

I think, unknown to me.

Alm. Were your bloods equal?

John. Yes; and, I thought, our hearts too.

Alm. Then she must love.

John. She did; but never me: she could not love me;

She would not love; she hated; more, she scorn'd me:

And in so poor and base a way abused me,

For all my services, for all my bounties,
So bold neglects flung on me